Flak Jacket
by Labyrinth01
Summary: Whenever Fritz wears his Flak jacket, Brenda gets all hot and bothered.  What's an FBI agent to do?  Fritz POV.


**Flak Jacket**

**Author's Notes: **This is the first story I have ever written first person from Fritz's point of view. It is rather stream of conscious, and lacks the finesse that I think my other stories have, because I'm writing this from inside a man's head, and we all know how men think. Even if it is our beloved Fritz Howard.

This is a missing scene from the ep To Serve with Love, but the ep has very little to do with this fic.

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><p>I knew I was in trouble the second I walked into her office.<p>

The shades were drawn and the lights were turned out. I could barely make out Brenda's form behind her desk. But what I could see told me everything I needed to know.

She wanted to fuck me. And whatever Brenda wants, Brenda gets.

She had tilted her chair back as if in a casual repose, but I knew she was feeling anything but relaxed. Her long legs were up on her desk, looking sleek and smooth against the dark wood, and I was sure she had hiked up her skirt. Her blouse had a few more buttons undone than the last time I had seen her, so the swells of her perfect breasts were visible. And her hair—oh, that beautiful hair. She had taken it down from the conservative bun she was wearing earlier and it hung in loose, messy ringlets around her face, the way I like it best. Through the mass of curls I could see her large, sensuous lips wearing a smirk and decorated with a fresh coat of lipstick, as her dark, hungry eyes traveled over me. And I knew, without a doubt, what the impetus was behind this seduction scene.

It was my flak jacket.

I had broken the news to her earlier about Flynn and Provenza serving our protected witness Stephen Hirshbaum (or who we thought was Hirshbaum) and she had sent everyone home in a fit annoyance, too pissed off with the bumbling duo to deal with the case until the next day, and I had never gotten around to taking off my FBI flak jacket. The thought flitted through my mind that I was gonna get lucky tonight, because Brenda has this thing about my jacket. Seeing my in my flak jacket makes her hot, _really_ hot. Sometimes at home she asks me to put it on, and usually ends up on her knees moments later, taking me so deep in her throat that I'm positive I'm going to come as quickly as an teenage boy. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I love it that Brenda is as attracted to me as I am to her, and I have to admit, it strokes my male ego to know that her watching me being a big tough FBI guy makes her wet. And I'll do whatever she wants me to do to prove my masculinity and virility in whatever position, as long as she wants, whenever she wants, wherever she wants.

And right then she was staring at me like she wanted to devour me whole, so it didn't look like we were gonna make it home before she starts ripping my clothes off (and vice versa). We'd had sex a couple of times in her office before, at my urging, and she had a hard time relaxing, too nervous that one of her squad would interrupt us. I, on the other hand, secretly hoped Will Pope would decide to swing by, right when my cock was buried between Brenda's thighs, thrusting hard and making her cry out my name, so Pope could see the pleasure I bring Brenda, to remind him of what he threw away, and let him know that Brenda was mine now. If that makes me a pig, so be it, but Will brings out the Neanderthal in me. Tonight, though, I could tell by the evil glint in Brenda's eye that she didn't give a damn about possible interruptions or being overheard. She wanted me, and nothing was going to stop her. God, I was getting hard just standing there.

"Fritzy," Brenda said in her Southern drawl, deep and throaty, and she slowly took her legs off the desk, one at a time, as if to tantalize me with a possible glimpse of her pussy. She stood up slowly and put both hands on her desk, leaned toward me, her full breasts straining against the confines of her black bra. Her eyes never left mine and she licked her lips slowly, purposefully, knowing full well she was driving me crazy. My cock was so hard I thought my zipper was going to burst. "Come here, honey, and leave that jacket on," she said softly, and I found myself walking toward her without even realizing what I was doing. When I got close to her desk. Brenda came around, swinging her hips, and grabbed me by the shoulders, maneuvered me so that my back was to the desk, and pushed me down with considerable strength so I was sitting on the edge. She stood between my spread legs and I buried my hands in her wild hair and pulled her head toward mine. When my lips crashed down on her mouth it was already open, hot and wet and eager, and my tongue slid in as she grabbed my shoulders and pulled herself closer. Her tongue dueled with mine and she whimpered, turning me on even more. God, I wanted her. I want her all the time, every minute of every day, and every time I see her I start planning how I can get her into bed. But when we start to make love, just kissing and touching, the yearning turns to burning, and I'm sure the two of us will catch fire and burn so hot that there will be nothing left of us but ashes. I've never felt anywhere near this passionate about a woman, and in our six years together, my desire for Brenda hasn't even begun to abate.

I placed one of my hands on her breast and teased the nipple through the fabric of her shirt and bra, and she reacted by reaching down and grabbing my ass and pulling herself even closer to me. I quickly unbuttoned her shirt and reached behind and flicked open her bra; I laid my hand on her bare back and slowly slid it around to the front of her chest. Brenda pulled her mouth away from mine and whispered, "oh yes Fritzy, touch me, touch me please, I need you." My hand slipped under her slack bra and circled her right breast as my thumb flicked over her nipple, making Brenda toss her head back and groan. I took it and rolled it between my fingers and felt it pebble and grow impossibly hard; Brenda started panting. I buried my lips in her neck and found her secret spot, the one that always made her squirm, and took my other hand out of her hair and put it on her left breast and tweaked the nipple. Brenda moaned loudly and I thought, through a haze of desire, that this would be a great time for Will Pope to walk by.

Brenda moved her hands to my belt and began to pull my shirt out of my pants, and when I felt her small, warm hands travel up my back, lightly dragging her nails against my flesh, I wanted to grab her, throw her on the desk, and thrust into her, but I controlled myself, letting her call the shots. But I needed skin, more skin, her skin against mine. I had to have more.

Since I was sitting on the desk her chest was almost level with mine, it was easy to pull her toward me and latch onto a nipple. I rolled the tightened peak around my mouth, biting lightly, as Brenda dragged her nails through my scalp and begged me not to stop. I made sure not to neglect the other breast, and continued to play with it with my free hand until I switched breasts, and then I used both hand to bring both of her perfect breasts together and took in both nipples at once. Brenda practically screamed and if my mouth wasn't full of luscious Brenda-flesh, I would have smiled in male satisfaction. I licked, sucked, and nibbled as Brenda's cries became louder and louder, and then I reluctantly abandoned her sweetness in order to muffle her a bit. I pulled my mouth away and began kissing Brenda again, who started lightly stroking my abs with her nails, mere inches above where I really wanted her hands to be. I had to touch her, see how wet my girl was, give her some relief, give her something to really scream about. One of my hands drifted lower to her knee and found the hem of her hiked-up skirt and began to slowly travel up the inside of her silky thigh. This elicited another sound of pleasure from Brenda, one of anticipation and impatience (Brenda is as impatient in bed as she is out of it). She knew where I was headed, and what I would do when I got there. I moved my hand to the back of her thigh as I approached her behind, ready to cup her beautiful, round, perfect ass through her underwear before I dove beneath them and to find her pussy. I reached her rump and my groin tightened in anticipation, and almost fell off the desk when I cupped her left cheek.

She wasn't wearing any panties.

Brenda pulled back and looked me in the eye, smirking. "Somethin' suprisin' you, Fritzy?" she said, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Tell me you weren't walking around your squad without any panties?" I said, my own voice husky.

"What if I was?" she challenged, her hand slipping lower and lightly cupping my sizable erection. I thrust into her palm, surprising myself by not coming at the images in my head of the take charge Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson yelling at the men beneath her with her gun on her hip and no panties under her thin summer skirt. And I knew I wasn't going to be able to take her teasing much longer.

I wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. I moved my hand off her ass and slid it across her neatly waxed, bare pussy. I plunged two fingers between her lips and found her clit, rubbing it hard. She was even wetter than I had imagined. Brenda gasped at the shock of my sudden movements, and from the pleasure of being touched the way that sends her over the edge very quickly. She widened her stance so I could have better access, and I immediately plunged those fingers into her channel and used my thumb to rub her clit. Shit, she was so wet, so needy. I could smell her arousal from where I sat, and it smelled like roses and the ocean and everything sweet and sensual all mixed together. Her body was amazing.

Without opening her tightly closed eyes, she reached for my fly and deftly lowered the zipper, then reached in and grabbed my cock. I sighed in relief as she pulled me out of my restrictive boxers, gripping me just the way she knows I like. "Oh Brenda," I sighed, as I circled her clit and added a third finger in her pussy, which made her muscles tighten around me. "That feels so good, don't stop." Her warm hand on my enormous erection, my fingers inside her wet heaven…I certainly wasn't above begging. Brenda ran a nail lightly up the underside of my shaft, and now it was my turn to moan so loudly as to give ourselves away. Brenda's eyes were still closed and mine were barely open, but I could see the smug smile on her face. She pumped me lightly once, twice, three times…and then tightened her grip and with both hands twisting, pumped up and down so hard I nearly fell off the desk. "Fuck Brenda!" I practically yelled. Where the hell did she learn these things? I had to bat her hands away because she was bringing me way too close to the edge, and frankly, I had had enough of foreplay. Like I said, I love letting Brenda take the reins, but sometimes, I gotta take them back or I know I'm not going to last. A man can only take so much; unlike women, we aren't blessed with multiple orgasms. I pulled my fingers out of Brenda and stood up. I pushed my pants and boxers down to my knees and grabbed Brenda's hips. She knew what I was doing and wanted it as badly as I did. She put her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips and I picked her up, pushing her skirt up as high as it would go. I walked over the closest wall and pushed her against it, so some of her weight would be supported. Brenda kissed me lightly on the lips and looked at me as she said, "I want you to fuck me, Fritz. Fuck me until I can't breathe." I growled, the power for speech finally having left me. She reached down and, never breaking our gaze, guided my tip into her wetness. I immediately thrust into her, pushing her back into the wall. Shit, she was so damn tight. I had to take a deep breath and make sure I had control of myself, and then I plunged into her again as she held tightly onto my shoulders and leaned her head against the wall, eyes screwed up, whispering, "yes Fritz yes!" I thrust over and over, each time wanting to cry when I had to pull out and leave that warm haven, but then wanting to cry when I returned to paradise and felt Brenda meet my thrust with her own eager hips, grinding against me. I gripped her bare buttocks and felt her naked pussy against my groin, her juices running all over me, and I thanked Jesus or Buddha or Allah or whomever was responsible for bringing this woman into my life. Making love to Brenda was ecstasy, my Nirvana, and with all the bad shit I've done in my life I have no idea why I deserve her. But I let these thoughts melt away as I slammed into her, rooting around and finding a breast to suck on as I fucked her, and listened to her desperate moans of pleasure liberally peppered with my name.

When she adjusted herself so that her clit hit my pubic bone every time I thrust, going back to kissing and silencing her was critical or the entire Department would be at her office door thinking she was getting murdered. Brenda really was quite the screamer. I knew we had better finish, and soon, so I risked pulling away from her mouth for a few seconds while I whispered in her ear, "I want you to come for me, Brenda. I want to feel you come on my cock, baby. Can you do that for me?" Her hips began to move furiously, and I used more of my weight to push her against the wall so I could take one of my hands off her ass and put it between her legs, tweaking and rubbing her clit. She began to pant in that familiar way that tells me she is close, and I picked up the pace, feeling on edge myself, but wanting her to come first. A few more strokes of her clit did it: her nails nearly punctured my flak jacket she was digging in so hard, and her muscles squeezed my cock over and over as she slammed her head back and bit her lip and keened loudly. Her spasms set off mine, and I came hard, spilling into her so that we were coming together for what felt like a long time. I forgot about my silencing duty, and I wasn't all the quiet when I came, but I really didn't care right then. Brenda was chanting "oh god" over and over when my orgasm finally stopped, and I was left so weak I couldn't hold her up any more. I managed to disengage us and slide down the wall, somehow moving her to my lap. I sat down on the office floor, and Brenda leaned back against my chest, as sweaty and short of breath as I was. We didn't speak for a long time until we were both breathing normally and reality had begun to seep in. Brenda was the one who broke the silence.

"It's the jacket, you know," she said, matter-of-factly, her voice rough from yelling. "Seeing you in that FBI flak jacket just does something to me. It makes me want you, bad."

I smiled and kissed her on top of her head. "I know it's the jacket. I _love_ this jacket. I love anything that gets you this hot and bothered."

She ran her hand over mine and entwined our fingers. "_You_, Fritz Howard, get me hot and bothered, if you haven't noticed. Our sex life just keeps gettin' better and better, probably cuz I love you so much." She raised our entwined hands and kissed my palm. "But something about you in that jacket that really gets me going…must be like you seein' me in lingerie."

"Uh," I grunted in agreement, picturing Brenda in one of her sexy outfits. "Especially the red lace one with the matching thong. I always want you, all the time, but seeing you in that, yeah, that's something special." I felt my very relaxed and satisfied cock twitch at the thought.

Brenda slapped me lightly on the arm. "You're insatiable, you know that?" she said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Me? I'm not the one who couldn't wait to get home to have sex, who walked around her work without underwear and seduced her husband in her office. So don't call _me_ insatiable."

Brenda giggled. "Okay, you have a point. But for the record, I did have my panties on when I was yellin' at Flynn and Provenza and during the autopsy. I just took them off when I was waiting for you."

"Good," I smiled, shifting. The idea of Brenda's pussy being uncovered around other men made me feel jealous, stupid as that sounds. My pants were down around my knees at this point, and my cold butt was on the office floor. I was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

"Honey, I think it's time we get ourselves together and get out of here," I said. "My legs are going numb."

Brenda nodded and quickly stood up, rehooking her bra and buttoning up her blouse. When she finished, she walked over to her desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a pair of black panties, which she slipped on. She then grabbed her purse and pulled out a brush, lipstick, and powder and went to work on eliminating her pronounced "just got laid" look.

I gladly got up and pulled up my pants, tucking myself in and zipping up. I walked over to Brenda and borrowed her brush and took a peak at myself in her mirror, and thought overall I looked okay. We gave each other the once-over and, agreeing we were presentable, packed up and left the office, holding hands and smiling at our illicit liaison. I was eager to get her home, where we had lots of time and plenty of privacy for noisemaking, so we could go for a nice, slow round two. I would keep on the flak jacket as long as she liked. And perhaps I could convince her, for a little quid pro quo, to put on that red lacy number for me.

Brenda didn't see him, but I did. Will Pope was sitting in the semi-darkness at Provenza's desk, wearing the strangest, shellshocked expression as he stared at us walking out of the office. Brenda was chatting about that day's case and was too caught up in what she was saying to look around the squad room on our way out, and I was glad for her distraction. Because I just couldn't help myself; I gave Will a big, triumphant, in-your-face smirk as I dropped Brenda's hand and put my arm around her waist, my hand grazing her ass, pulling her close. She doesn't want you anymore, she's all mine, my actions said.

Jacket or no jacket.

**The End**

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